With Ben Giddard’s penchant for pop hooks and Tamborello’s ear for crafting intricately accessible and credible pop songs from the most abstract of electronic music soups, ‘evan and chan’ was ripe to be magnificent. The result is a gorgeous, kaleidoscopic dream, all textured sound washes, and electronic dynamics at the service of Giddard’s keen lyrical edge. One of the most refreshing and fascinating pop songs, turn of the century.

This song is all about the sexual tension. Tunde filling up space with sex metaphors while an expanding wall of sound keeps building up as a promise of a trembling, suffocating orgasm, and just when you think it’s finally at the door, the actual climax never arrives. It’s all dry sex, oscillating on a plateau. I find it exquisitely frustrating, and oddly enough, satisfying.

Fade into you is arguably one of the most gorgeous and affecting musical portraits of 90′s youth, driven by Hope Sandoval’s sublime laconic delivery, the song is a sort of passive response to teenage angst of a vainly introspective generation and their very often illogicaly confused relationships. Personally speaking, I like it because I find it extremely sexy, I think it makes an ideal soundtrack for languid, passionate fully clothed make-out sessions on snug couches.

Such a well adressed-ache. Fake Plastic Trees is a song that perfectly captures the opposing traits of radiohead’s music: maudlin lyricism spiralling around modern society’s decay and impotence countered by an uplifting melodic structure and textural arrangement. I don’t think Thom’s voice has ever sounded as good and straight as it does on this particular song, played in a certain mood, it pierces right to the bone. The way he sings “it wears me out” never fails to have an impact upon me.

Fueled by a heavily compressed pentatonic synth and an unstoppable groove, I really can’t even begin to describe the immense delight that I get when lost into its musical sehnsucht with a good pair of headphones. Like beer being poured over a 100-proof hangover, this feels so warm and soothing.

When I was around 7 years old I used to accompany my father to his work and he’d play his ‘the Cars’ tapes while I layed on the floor drawing pyramids and animals. Later on I discovered Mark Kozelek’s sullen voice and his rendition of ‘all mixed up’ and fell in love. Whereas the Cars original was one of the least memorable singles on their catalogue, Kozelek works unbelievable beauty out of it. A song that triggers memories both from my childhood and my highschool years, what more could I possibly ask for?

Born in Costa Rica, Chavela escaped to Mexico when she was 14 and spent the following 15 years singing on the streets dressed like a man, carrying a gun, smoking constantly and drinking till the last drop. When she recorded this song at 30, her voice, cracked and mournful, by the persistent corrosion of tequila and tobacco is nonetheless dripped in fiery passion. She sings from the entrails. His rendition of this traditional mexican composition stands as one of the most well-known performances in latinamerican grounds.

I first heard Lhasa in a hotel room in New York. The city had left me exhausted and I felt extremely lonely during that particular season in my life. I felt I was suffering from Stendhal’s syndrome when I first heard her voice. I left my room and went to every record store that I could find open at that time of the night looking for the album. When I finally found it, I came back to the hotel, and I think I must have repeated this opening track at least 7 times before listening to the rest of the album. That was 4 years ago, and to date I still turn back to this album whenever I feel soulburnt. It soothes like no other.

Out of every song on this list, this is the first one I’d save from the fire. Clair de Lune sums up afterglow, its beautiful melody lifting its sleepy head to the silent piano notes soaring over it all, imbued with sublimely romantic melancholia. When played at the right time and the right moment this song is magic.

Paintings: Henri Matisse.

And with this I conclude this exposition on my favorite songs. I apologize for any ortographical or contextual mistakes. Here’s Part 1 and Part 2.

hi there, i listened here a song from Olavi Virta, “sinitaivas” and i loved it. i spent days searching for more of his music but i can’t find it, do you know any site to download it or have more songs??

Zahir: Yes, of course I’ve heard the superpitcher remix, it’s the b-side to the single and I have a physical copy of it. It’s a great approach to the song, more akin to the Kompakt aesthetic.

An afterglow playlist is on the works at the moment ;)

cb: It’s a bit tricky to hear the first times, but when you know the lyrics it’s impossible not to recognize them afterwards. What I actually meant that I don’t really understand the meaning of the lyrics, not the words per se. I think the problem is that it’s a very short and simplistic song, so Drake doesn’t leave much context inside the lyrics to really decipher what does ‘pink moon’ really stands for. The most convincing interpretation that I’ve read so far is that the pink moon is a catholic sign of the apocalypse, I wouldn’t know because I’m not very familiar with catholic symbolism but the lyrics kind of fit in with the idea… and yet, I feel Drake’s delivery kind of contradicts this interpretation, not doomful but serene. If true, this has got to be the lushest song about the end of the world I’ve ever heard.

This is such a beautiful mix of songs. I honestly loved each one but in a completely different way. Your descriptions are so airy and dreamy to read. I really really enjoyed this. Nice work, i look forward to seeing (and hearing) more from you :)

The song makes its imprint
in the air, making itself felt,
a felt world. Here, there,
the stunned silence

of knowing I will not remember
what I heard;

futures that will never happen,
a fluidity we cannot achieve
except as a child
creating possibility.